A Night of Elegance and Class
by EuphoniumGurl0
Summary: Not heeding the headmistress's warning to stay away, Hermione enjoys 'a night of elegance and class hosted by Messrs Moony and Padfoot.'


**Title**: A Night of Elegance and Class

**Warnings**: AU (Sirius and Remus are alive), lemons

**Summary**: Not heeding the headmistress's warning to stay away, Hermione enjoys 'a night of elegance and class hosted by Messrs Moony and Padfoot.'

* * *

She glanced around the Great Hall at the students, some of whom were excited for the summer holidays, some nervous about their adventures after academia, some planning how to get into the most trouble possible before they returned for another year under the watchful eyes of the staff, and all of whom were celebrating another successful year at Hogwarts. Tomorrow, they would be on the scarlet steam engine home, where they would be pampered and taken care of by doting parents who were pleased to see them returned in mostly the same condition they had gone.

"Professor?" Hermione asked suddenly, turning to the Headmistress, who'd been chatting pleasantly with Hagrid before Hermione interrupted her.

"Hermione?" Professor McGonagall asked, a small smile on her face as she bathed in the glory of her pupils. She was equally as keen to have a summer away from them as they were to have one away from her.

"When I took on this position, I said that I was, em," she cleared her throat hesitantly as she searched for the right word to use, "_anxious _about being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the Ministry and my friends."

"I do recall that, yes," McGonagall said, fixing her shrewd eyes on Hermione.

"And you were wonderfully kind to extend to me an offer above what most employers would - an offer of friendship and an ear should I ever need to talk," Hermione continued awkwardly.

McGonagall's eyes remained fixated on Hermione, boring into her. "I remember that as well, Professor Granger," she said, causing Hermione to squirm in her seat. She was back to formalities, and with her next words, Hermione knew why. "Although you've not taken me up on any such offer. If you're reconsidering keeping the position for the next year because you miss your friends..."

"Oh, heavens no!" Hermione exclaimed, flushing. "I mean, I do miss my friends, but it's not as if I don't see them on weekends. I wasn't going to quit. I _love _my job. I _adore _the students and teaching them."

McGonagall's eyes softened immediately. She relaxed visibly, causing Hermione's already anxious heart to stop pounding out of her chest.

After returning to Hogwarts for her final year, Hermione had decided not to follow Harry and Ron into careers in law enforcement. She'd gone into the Ministry, up through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and somewhere between becoming head of the department and breaking up with Ron Weasley amicably, she'd realized she wasn't satisfied as a paper pusher. Conveniently, a position opened up at Hogwarts for Potions, and although Hermione knew Severus Snape must have rolled over in his grave when she applied, she still did. And McGonagall, surprised but overjoyed at the prospect of having one of her most successful pupils return to teach, immediately offered her the position without even an interview.

Severus Snape, who was the star of the portrait next to Dumbledore's, in McGonagall's office, voiced his opinion rather loudly when Hermione went in to do her employment paperwork. So loudly, in fact, that Professor McGonagall warned him she'd turn his painting around if he continued to interrupt. Dumbledore, in his portrait, beamed down at Hermione and offered her a lemon drop, which surprised her as it manifested into a real one, literally jumping out of his extended hand and out of the portrait. Even the tragically deceased, portrait version of her beloved former Headmaster had a bag of tricks up his long, star-clad robe sleeves.

"I'm relieved to hear that, Hermione," McGonagall said kindly, thankfully back to first names now. "Merlin knows the students could use stability and a voice of reason from _some _of their professors."

McGonagall pursed her lips and nodded down the table, where Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were currently in a food fight with some of the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years, large chunks of mashed potatoes and peas plopping into the gap between the tables. When Sirius caught wind of McGonagall glaring at him, he flicked his wand underneath his table to clear the mess and coughed.

"And that, students, is a practical demonstration of the tactics used by rebel forces to bring the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 to an end," he said loudly, his deep voice carrying down to McGonagall and Hermione. "Thank you all for your participation in this re-enactment."

McGonagall sighed deeply and shook her head, although a hint of a smile peeked out beneath her frown. Hermione didn't bother trying to hide her smile as Remus chuckled heartily and whispered something into Sirius's ear, and Sirius winked at his students. Even tiny Flitwick guffawed.

"Honestly, if I had thought hiring both of them would be a revival of their school days, then I would've just taken back Lupin for Defense. Transfiguration experts willing to teach are easy to come by," McGonagall said wearily.

Hermione smiled to herself. She knew the headmistress loved both men as if they were her children (which they sometimes did a good job of acting like). After the war, she'd been eager in recruiting Lupin back to teach Defense, but the man was hesitant to leave his fellow Marauder alone to his own antics in his London bachelor pad. McGonagall wound up giving into Lupin's request to hire Black on a probationary period as Defense instructor while he took on McGonagall's old post of Transfiguration professor.

They were damn good teachers - the both of them. Hermione could attest to it, as she'd sat in on their classes while playing around with the idea of teaching. And the students loved them. Both appeared to have regained some of their youth and vigor following the defeat of the Dark Lord, even though they both still had their scars to bear. Still, they looked younger, were more carefree, and Sirius Black had a devout fan club of female students who were in puppy love with him. Sirius was aware of this fact, and while cocky, never stepped out of line with any of his students - not even the particularly attractive, particularly brazen ones that were of age.

Hermione remembered Remus recalling a rather awkward but hilarious moment at a Christmas party the Potters held a year-and-a-half ago, before she'd been a teacher. Apparently a rather attractive, blonde bombshell of a seventh year had decided that for a graduation gift, rather than take the flat her parents had bought her and be off, she wanted Sirius. Sirius found her in his office, in a translucent baby doll and red pumps, offering herself to him, saying that she wasn't his student anymore. In response to this presumptuous act, Sirius had apparently thought for a moment about it, agreed with her that she was no longer a student, and said because of it, he had no qualms about doing what he was about to do, which was to transfigure her skimpy outfit into a jester's costume, and ask her to entertain someone else.

As Remus told this story and she, Harry, and Ron burst into bouts of laughter, Sirius, appearing ever affronted at their amusement, told them that it was a nice change not having to fill out an incident report and scheduling a meeting with the student in question, the headmistress, and depending on the severity of the situation, the girl's parents. This prompted Hermione to believe this sort of thing was a frequent occurrence.

And honestly, she saw why. Even by wizarding standards, Sirius was aging well. On grueling days, Harry, who was half his age, looked older. Sirius had luscious, brown, wavy hair, striking grey eyes, a well-formed, strong jaw, a chronic five o'clock shadow, and a strong, lean but muscular body that made girls swoon whenever he dressed in the form-fitting, sleek garb he wore for practical lessons.

"Well?" Professor McGonagall asked, snapping Hermione out of her quiet thoughts of Marauders. "If you weren't planning on quitting, why have you brought up that conversation?"

"Ah, yes," Hermione said, flushing again and staring down at her plate of chicken and vegetables. "Well, it was the other bit of it that I wanted to ask about - the offer to talk about personal matters. Does that still stand?"

McGonagall's eyes lit up, and she regarded Hermione fondly, a broad smile on her face. "Of course it does," she said, her voice oddly sentimental. "I'm here should you ever need anything."

Hermione looked up from her plate and returned the headmistress's smile. Encouraged by her positive reception thus far, Hermione swallowed her hesitation and steeled herself to broach the next topic; it was one that Hermione would normally reserve for Ginny Potter, but as Ginny Potter was out-of-town for the next week, and Hermione was desperate to speak to someone about this _thing _that'd been bubbling up inside of her for months now, she decided to seek help and encouragement (or discouragement, really) from the only female source she had aside from Trelawney.

"Well, Professor, I - I think I've developed feelings for someone complicated," Hermione said bravely, although she felt her cheeks heating up.

McGonagall, clearly not having expected this line of conversation at all, was momentarily flustered as she searched for her bearings. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Hermione affirmed, momentarily regretting her decision not to wait for Ginny Potter. Or even going to Luna or Neville. But now it was too late, so she swallowed her hesitation and continued. "And, I - I've been wondering what I should do about this... _situation_."

"Indeed?" McGonagall repeated, still flabbergasted.

"Yes," Hermione responded. "These... _feelings_ have been growing stronger, and I just don't think it's a good idea to have them."

"Indeed?" McGonagall asked for the third time, before she shook herself out of her robotic responses. "Well, why is this... _situation _complicated? I don't think it would be, but it's - it's not a student, is it?"

"Oh Gods, no!" Hermione exclaimed so loudly that the entire staff table looked at her oddly. Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth and flushed scarlet.

"I had to ask," McGonagall said stiffly, her cheeks tinged red as well. "But, well, if it's not with someone out of bounds, then how can feelings be a bad idea and create a complicated... _situation_? Is it a Muggle?"

"I wish," Hermione mumbled, shaking her head.

She looked at her mentor's face, saw her briefly slip into her own thoughts, before a sad smile flittered across her face. It was then that Hermione remembered the story of McGonagall's long lost love affair with a Muggle man who she wound up giving up instead of giving up her wand. She realized her mumbled words were in ignorance and immediately apologized for her insensitivity.

"All in the past," McGonagall assured her gently, a coy smile sliding onto her face "So tell me who it is that has my Potions Mistress so smitten?"

Hermione hesitated.

"SrsBlargh," Hermione mumbled, looking down again.

"Sorry?" McGonagall asked, looking at her strangely.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, scrunched up her nose, and took a deep breath in.

"Sirius Black," she exhaled, closing one eye and squinting.

"Hermione Granger! On Albus Dumbledore's name, I swear I've _never_," McGonagall burst out in an uncharacteristic display of hysteria, nearly choking on her glass of water.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes. Hagrid patted the Headmistress on the back twice to stop her from aspirating. Luckily, the excitement that filled the air of the Great Hall stopped students from catching wind of their Headmistress nearly dying. The Head Table, however, all turned to her to check that she was alright. The Headmistress waved away Hagrid's hand and turned her entire body to Hermione, gazing at her seriously. Hermione was forced to look into the Headmistress's glimmering green eyes.

"You mustn't get involved with him, Hermione," the Headmistress urged. "You're a _good _girl - and the brightest witch of your generation. You're the best student I've ever had. You - you mustn't get swept up in his - his _charm_. I _know _he's handsome. I have eyes, too, you know? But you _mustn't _let yourself fall for it."

If Hermione hadn't wanted to die before, she did now. To hear McGonagall call Sirius handsome was too much for her. She turned so red in the face that she heard the blood rushing in her ears. She buried her head even deeper in her hands. She was so embarrassed at what she just admitted to her mentor - the woman who made her the witch she was today.

"I know, I know," Hermione whispered in a hushed voice, looking around to see if anyone was still paying attention. "I wasn't _going _to say anything to him."

She caught Sirius's eye, and he glanced at her questioningly. Remus also gave her an odd, confused smile, but they turned back to conversation with Flitwick, to her relief.

"Good," McGonagall said in relief, calming herself down. "Good. I think that's best."

Even so, Hermione was still somewhat offended by the Headmistress's outburst. Sirius was a _bit _of a playboy, but he was hardly the face of the gossip columns, and he'd never laid a hand on a student. He was a stand-up wizard, for the most part. The thing that Hermione had been hung-up on wasn't even the age difference, as it was hardly a difference at all by their standards. What had Hermione hesitant was the combination of him being a father-figure in Harry's life and that he was out-of-her-league handsome and had a penchant for dating impossibly gorgeous women.

As McGonagall regained her breath again, she caught sight of Hermione's frown, and she sighed. "Hermione, I'm not saying he's a bad person or anything of that sort. I hired him. Obviously I have _some _respect for him as an educator and as a fellow Order member, but _obviously _you've deduced yourself that such a complex _situation _can only lead to more... _complications_, both with your personal relationships and your emotions."

Hermione remained quiet, picking at her food, and letting McGonagall's words sink in. After all, she was saying what Hermione already knew. She'd wanted her thoughts affirmed so that she could take the long summer break, maybe go on vacation with her parents to the south of France, forget all about the crush that'd been festering for the greater part of the year, and then come back with a fresh perspective to teach in September.

"You're a bright witch," McGonagall continued stiffly. "I realize it's nearly impossible to meet men while teaching, but perhaps you can use the summer to... quell some of these feelings and perhaps meet a more suitable young wizard. Preferably one that doesn't have flaming red hair."

Hermione blushed again. Did McGonagall just tell her to use the summer to go out and meet men? When she looked up to meet McGonagall's gaze and saw the red tint still across her cheeks, Hermione confirmed that yes, indeed, McGonagall _had _suggested that.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said awkwardly.

"Anytime, Hermione," she responded just as awkwardly.

Still, as dinner continued, Hermione's gaze continued to drift to the lively conversation at the other end of the table.

* * *

As students began to trickle out of the Great Hall and head for their common rooms, Hermione followed suit. She was on the Grand Staircase, about to get off on the first floor so she could head to her quarters when the damned stairs shifted.

"Oh _come on_," she mumbled, as the staircase flew upward and deposited her instead on the second floor.

She got off on the landing and looked to find one leading back down, when all the stairs inexplicably shifted, leaving her stranded with only one door to go through. Sighing in exasperation, Hermione opened the door and headed for one of the secret passages she remembered from the Marauder's Map that would lead her downstairs, not too far from her quarters. It was an inconvenience but not too big of one, luckily.

Hermione kept her eyes peeled for the portrait of the polka band, squinting in the dimly lit corridor. She was so focused on the painting that she didn't see the hand that reached out to grab her and pull her into a doorway that hadn't been there a moment before.

"What the - ?" she exclaimed, going for her wand, before it clicked in her mind where she was. "Sirius?" she asked, quelling her sudden rush of adrenaline and whipping around to face him.

"Hello, Hermione!" he greeted pleasantly.

"I'm here, too," said the equally chipper voice of Remus Lupin.

"Remus?" she asked, taking in the elegantly decorated quarters, which were Sirius's.

The furniture was made of a dark wood that matched the floors, and a fireplace was crackling happily in the background. The furniture of the living area was regal, with high backs and dark red cushions. The small kitchen off to the side was filled with bottles of sprites and mixers. And in the opposite direction, she saw a door that was ajar but dark, possibly leading to his bedroom if his set-up was similar to hers.

"Sorry to scare you, love," Sirius said, handing Remus a glass of brandy. "You sat next to McGonagall at dinner, so I didn't get the chance to talk to you then."

"Did you make the stairs act up on me?" she accused, eyeing the drink he was pouring for himself.

"Sorry about that, too," he apologized half-heartedly, not seeming very sorry at all.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Congratulations on nearly killing McGonagall, by the way," Sirius said, raising his glass to Remus, who clicked his with his friend's.

"I didn't nearly kill her," Hermione defended, although she flushed a little as she remembered McGonagall's outburst and then her fit of gagging. "I may have given her a minor stroke, but she got over it."

Both Remus and Sirius laughed heartily.

"So what did you say to her?" Remus asked, taking a swig of his brandy.

"I'm curious myself," Sirius said, nodding. "We've caused quite a bit of mayhem in our day, but I've never seen her react like that before."

Hermione blushed even deeper and shook her head, signaling that she wasn't going to tell them.

"Fine then," Sirius said lazily, one corner of his mouth bending upward. "We have more pressing matters to attend to anyhow."

"Indeed," Remus agreed. "Hermione Granger, you are cordially invited to a night of drinking and reminiscing."

"A night of elegance and class hosted by Messrs Moony and Padfoot," Sirius added formally, bowing.

Hermione laughed uncontrollably at the two grown men in front of her, putting on a show. "Is this it, then? Your 'night of elegance and class' consists of getting knackered in your quarters on the last night of the term?"

Sirius looked affronted, while Remus nearly spilled his drink because of how hard his hands were shaking, related to the laughter racking his body.

"We don't invite just anyone, you know?" Sirius huffed.

"This is so classy that we may as well be sharing a tinnie or two by the Great Lake before going skinny-dipping," Hermione said through bouts of laughter.

Remus could no longer suppress his laughter, and it spilled out from between his lips in a melodic tenor. His blue eyes were sparkling as he threw his head back and surrendered himself to the hilarity of the situation as Sirius turned on him and glared. And thus, their night of elegance and class began.

When Remus offered her a cocktail, she couldn't resist. She took it gratefully and downed it before he'd even had a chance to wave his wand and summon another. And before she knew it, she was a little drunk; she wasn't completely sure, but she was _pretty_ sure they were a little drunk, too, and they were playing the most confusing game of Monopoly she had ever played.

Sirius had just traded Remus an entire side of the board for a promise to sing karaoke with him for his birthday, and then Remus had gifted half of that side of the board to Hermione in honor of her first year teaching. She was rat-arsed, but she wasn't rat-arsed enough to not be aware of how much their serious, competitive game had declined, into _this_. She was actually glad when Remus suddenly stood up, blinked up at the clock on Sirius's wall, and bade them good night.

Hermione watched him go, tilting her head to the side and admiring how nicely his brown pants clung to his behind. She'd never noticed it before, but Professor Lupin had a sexy little arse, especially when he staggered around like that.

Looking at the board in front of her and realizing that hotels had been placed on 'Go' for whatever reason, she decided it was time for her to go as well. She tried to go, but she only got so far as to stand up, before she was tugged onto the fancy couch by Sirius.

"Leggo," she murmured, yawning. It was past two, and she reckoned she started drinking somewhere around nine.

"Wait," he purred, keeping his hand on her wrist. "I still want to know what you said to make McGonagall react like that."

"Why d'you want to know?" she mumbled, blushing as she felt the heat of his hand on hers.

She had discarded her robes somewhere around the first drink, and she was now clad in a brown pencil skirt and a light pink, short-sleeved blouse.

"For future reference," he said with a crooked smile. "I've spent three-quarters of my life trying to achieve what you managed in one night."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the grin that formed on her lips. She sighed in exasperation but shook her head. She wasn't about to tell him what her conversation with McGonagall had been about. It would be outright disobeying the woman's advice, and she decided that one embarrassing conversation per night was about all she could handle.

"You're not getting a word out of me, Black," she said, joining her thumb and pointer finger and zipping them across her lips.

"You know, Hermione," Sirius started in his silkiest voice, his rough thumb caressing the back of her hand, "the more adamant you are about keeping this from me, the more I want to know."

"I'd gathered as much, yes," she said, her eyes darting nervously around the room before they shot to his stormy grey eyes.

Sirius wet his lips, and her eyes shifted downward to them, unable to help herself. His hand on hers felt so warm, and she imagined what it'd be like to be in his arms. Probably just as warm. He looked inviting, in his grey dress shirt, bunched up and folded to his elbows, enough buttons undone to show a smattering of hair on his toned chest. And here she was, sitting in his quarters with him, alone, slightly inebriated, and close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath and the musky scent of the aftershave he used.

"You're really not going to tell me?" he asked, his lips quirking upward.

"No," she replied absentmindedly, as his hand moved from her hand to her thigh.

"Then you should probably go," he said darkly, staring at her with an intensity she'd only seen on a few occasions prior to this, mostly when he was in a self-destructive rage, and not for a long time.

"So now that you've realized I won't tell you, you're kicking me out?" she asked, trying to seem casual while trying to snap herself out of her trance, all the while ignoring the hand on her leg.

"I'm trying to kick you out before my self-control shatters and my hand moves even further up your leg," he said evenly.

The words had an instant effect on Hermione, causing goosebumps to run across her body, and tell-tale wetness to form between her legs. She squirmed, squeezing her thighs together uncomfortably, as she shivered. Her almond eyes met his steely ones, and she saw not a trace of playfulness in them. He was serious, and his overbearing presence was too much for her to resist when her own self-control was shot to hell.

She'd been wanting this man since the first time she caught him taking twenty points from a Gryffindor student he was previously fond of for making a vulgar remark about her, issuing him a week's worth of detentions with Filch and telling him to spread the word that this was a _light _punishment for what would come next should he hear anyone utter such inappropriate words about her again. And he hadn't even been aware that she was around the corner, watching the scene unfold.

He'd been her knight in shining armor, and she was only further spurred into her admiration of his cavalier attitude by his normally playful one. He and Lupin had been her home away from home while at Hogwarts. They'd made her isolation from the rest of her friends bearable by providing her with a deep companionship she'd grown to love.

And now Sirius had uttered the words all her fantasies began with, the ones she touched herself to at night. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath in, her chest rising and dropping. She was an adult, not a school girl. And regardless of his current state, the fact was that at least some part of him found her attractive enough to be thinking about what she was thinking about. If this opportunity was going to present itself, she thought it only right to take advantage of it. She was too nervous to make the first move, but now that he'd made it, she decided she would be brave enough to make the second.

That was her rationale at the moment, anyway, her entire conversation with McGonagall and all her weeks of rationalizing the fact that this was _never _going to happen and that it was for the better anyhow, forgotten.

Hermione took the hand that Sirius had been caressing so sensually and connected it to his once more, placing it on top. She curled her small hands around his large one, and moved it downward, to the bare skin on her knee, and slid it up again to the position it was in before, except this time, it was on her flesh, bunching her skirt up along the way.

"No one's stopping you," she pointed out in a low, seductive voice.

Sirius's already strong gaze intensified, and he didn't waste his time saying anything else. He forced Hermione onto her back with the weight of his body, her skirt pushed up around her hips as he settled between her legs. His hot mouth was on hers, his tongue masterfully plunging into her mouth, one of his hands in her auburn curls and one working on the frustratingly small buttons of her blouse.

As much as Hermione wanted to touch him, she wanted him to touch her more, so she helped him tear at the buttons on her top until they managed them undone, and he pulled the pink piece of fabric off of her arms and onto the floor. She managed his shirt on her own, and as his scalding lips traveled from her mouth to her neck, her hands explored the body she'd longed to touch for so long.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tensed muscles around his shoulder blades and the softness of his gorgeous, thick hair. He sucked on her neck, his scalding hands running down her bare torso and then up again to the curvature of her breasts. He pushed the cups of her bra upward and out of the way, his mouth latching onto one of her perky nipples.

She closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure and pain as he nipped her erect bud. She felt a pang between her legs again, and she arched her back, grinding herself against him. She could feel his erection through the thin cloth of her panties and his lightweight pants.

Hermione moved her hands from his hair and brought them around to his chest, lines of definition etched into his perfectly toned body and feeling wonderful beneath the pads of her fingers. She forced her hands to keep going until she reached his waist. She clawed at him, attempting to pull him upward again. He willingly complied, bringing his mouth down to meet hers again, grinding his erection against her wetness, causing her to moan again.

She moved her hands down to the front of his pants, fumbled with his belt until she managed to undo it somehow, and then by comparison, easily undid his pants, pulling them, and his boxers, down as far as she could reach while she was pinned underneath him.

She reached out blindly for what had been grinding into her for the past few minutes, and her hand connected with a long, thick shaft, fully erect, and pulsing underneath her touch. She stroked it hungrily, and Sirius pulled back from her mouth to groan gutterly. She opened her eyes to see his fluttering open as well, his powerful gaze unwavering from hers, wanting to devour her whole, as he sat up between her legs.

She shivered, squeezing his manhood lightly, anticipating what he could inflict upon her in his current state of arousal, and trying to urge him onward with her ministrations. She wanted to find out what Sirius Black had in him. Sitting between her legs, he looked like an animal, his wild eyes fixated on her, a primal look radiating from them, his messy hair framing his face, his strong arms and legs and _everything _on full display for her to admire. She took his body in, her eyes hungry.

"Not such an innocent little witch after all, are you?" he growled, unzipping her skirt and pulling it off.

Hermione's entire body flushed at his words, and she watched him tear off her panties, positioning himself between her legs once more. She felt him pry her smooth thighs apart with his hairy legs, watched him place the tip of his erect cock at her slick entrance, then held her breath in anticipation as he crawled back on top of her, just the tip penetrating her from this movement, as he settled his weight on his forearms.

She put her arms around his back and bucked upward, wanting more, wanting him completely inside of her, and with a cocky smirk marring his beautiful face, he thrust inside, sheathing himself in her warm depths.

She closed her eyes and moaned loudly, feeling every inch of his cock tear her insides apart. Even in her wildest imagination, she hadn't thought it would feel this good. Nothing in her life had ever felt this good.

He hung his head beside hers, breathing into her shoulder as he pulled out and shoved back in, causing a whole new wave of euphoria to overtake her body.

He continued this rhythm, slowly pushing in and out of her, occasionally nibbling on her neck and ear, sometimes meeting her lips for a sloppy kiss, until he brought her to the edge. When he felt her inner walls start to clamp around him and her breathing become shallow and frenzied, he'd stop and stay buried inside of her. She cried out in agony, pushing herself into the couch and the back at him as far as she could go, squeezing her insides in order to get more friction, desperate for a release.

This happened twice, and each time, he chuckled at her reaction, and stilled her cries of outrage by taking her lips in a passionate kiss, as he slowly started moving again. After the second time, he sped up his thrusts, and Hermione clawed his back angrily, matching his movements with her own.

She felt blood on her fingertips, knowing she had broken skin with her nails, and she heard him groan and his eyes snap open, raw passion and fury staring at her. Spurred on by her desperation, he thrust deeper and faster inside of her, until his own breathing became just as ragged as hers. Even the stiff, stable couch was unable to stay quiet, and it creaked under the pressure of their rough actions. Her soft cries grew louder and more agitated, and they mingled with the loud slapping sound of his balls against her ass. He had abandoned his steady, controlled love-making and was now pummeling into her, until he drove her over the edge.

Toes curling, head tossed back, and body convulsing, she yelled his name as she came undone. She felt as if the knot in her stomach exploded, and she struggled to catch her breath as the feeling of ecstasy overcame her. Sirius followed soon after, pounding into her one last time as deeply as he could, his seed spilling into her.

"Oh God," she moaned breathlessly, as his sweaty body fell on top of hers.

He brought his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his chest, adjusting them so that they could both lay on the couch without his weight crushing her body. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and kissed her bruised lips sweetly.

"Beautiful, passionate girl," he whispered in a low voice when his lips left hers, curving upward in a small smile.

She blushed under his gaze, but she smiled nonetheless.

"That was incredible," she said softly, burying her head in his chest.

"I agree," he said with laughter in his voice.

She placed a kiss on his chest, feeling lighter at his words. It didn't seem like he'd regretted it, and that had to be a good sign. She yawned again, feeling thoroughly exhausted as he brought a blanket over the top of them to cover them up. She wanted to talk, but she didn't know what to say. Despite this, she wasn't going to just confess her feelings for him. And yet, chit-chat about the weather or witty banter about something-or-another felt inappropriate as well.

"Sirius?" she asked.

"Mmm?" he asked, seeming perfectly content to lay there in silence.

"What are you doing over the holidays?" she asked, realizing she had no idea what he had planned at all and foolishly hoping she could somehow invite herself into his plans.

He chuckled softly and rubbed her back with his large, warm, soothing hand.

"We can talk about it over breakfast. For now, go to sleep, Hermione," he ordered as she failed to stifle another yawn.

"Alright," she murmured sleepily, "but just so you know, I'm still not going to tell you what McGonagall and I spoke about."

She felt his entire body shake in laughter. He kissed the top of her head. "Fair."

And unable to resist sleep any longer, she drifted off, thoroughly sated and happier than she ever remembered, after a night of elegance and class.

* * *

**Author's Note**: What'd you guys think? I actually am playing around with the idea of turning this into a chaptered story. I have a plot bunny that's been hopping around my head incessantly, trying to get me to write a Sirius/Remus/Hermione story, and the bunny is championing loads of smut and lemons. Would any of you be interested in further reading this? Let me know.


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